Love-at-Arms by Raphael Sabatini

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Love-At-Arms: Being a narrative excerpted from the chronicles of Urbino during the dominion of the High and Mighty Messer Guidobaldo da Montefeltro

The Essential Rafael Sabatini Collection [Illustrated]

Love-at-Arms

Love-At-Arms

magnificent Romeo.

"I know not why; but it is here. I feel it." And with his hand hetouched the region of his heart. "Say that he is no spy, and call me afool."

"Why, I'll do both," she laughed. Then more sternly, added: "Get you tobed, Gonzaga. Your wits play you false. Peppino, call my ladies."

In the moment that they were left alone he stepped close up to her,spurred to madness by the jealous pangs he had that day endured. Hisface gleamed white in the candlelight, and in his eyes there was alurking fierceness that gave her pause.

"Have your way, Madonna," he said, in a concentrated voice; "but to-morrow, whether we go hence, or whether we stay, he remains not with us."

She drew herself up to the full of her slender, graceful height, her eyeson a level with Gonzaga's own.

"That," she answered, "is as shall be decreed by me or him."

He breathed sharply, and his voice hardened beyond belief in one usuallyso gentle of tone and manner.

"Be warned, Madonna," he muttered, coming so close that with theslightest swaying she must touch him, "that if this nameless sbirro shallever dare to stand 'twixt you and me, by God and His saints, I'll killhim! Be warned, I say."

And the door re-opening at that moment, he fell back, bowed, and brushingpast the entering ladies, gained the threshold. Here someone tugged atthe prodigious foliated sleeves that spread beside him on the air likethe wings of a bird. He turned, and saw Peppino motioning him to lowerhis head.

"A word in your ear, Magnificent. There was a man once went out for woolthat came back shorn."

Angrily cuffing the fool aside, he was gone.

Valentina sank down upon her window-seat, in a turmoil of mingled angerand amazement that paled her cheek and set her bosom heaving. It was thefirst hint of his aims respecting her that Gonzaga had ever dared letfall, and the condition in which it left her boded ill for his ultimatesuccess. Her anger he could have borne, had he beheld it, for he wouldhave laid it to the score of the tone he had taken with her. But herincredulity that he could indeed have dared to mean that which her sensestold her he had meant, would have shown him how hopeless was his case andhow affronted, how outraged in soul she had been left by this moment ofpassionate self-revealing. He would have understood then that in hereyes he never had been, was never like to be, aught but a servant--andone, hereafter, that, deeming presumptuous, she would keep at greaterdistance.

But he, dreaming little of this as he paced his chamber, smiled at histhoughts, which flowed with ready optimism. He had been a fool to giveway so soon, perhaps. The season was not yet; the fruit was not ripeenough for plucking; still, what should it signify that he had given thetree a slight premonitory shake? A little premature, perhaps, but itwould predispose the fruit to fall. He bethought him of her never-varying kindness to him, her fond gentleness, and he lacked the wit tosee that this was no more than the natural sweetness that flowed from heras freely as flows the perfume from the flower--because Nature has sofashioned it, and not because Messer Gonzaga likes the smell. Lackingthat wit, he went in blissful confidence to bed, and smiled himselfsoftly to his sleep.

Away in the room under the Lion's Tower, the Count of Aquila, too, pacedhis chamber ere he sought his couch, and in his pacing caught sight ofsomething that arrested his attention, and provoked a smile. In acorner, among his harness which Lanciotto had piled there, his shieldthrew back the light, displaying the Sforza lion quartered with theAquila eagle.

"Did my sweet Gonzaga get a glimpse of that he would have no further needto pry into my parentage," he mused. And dragging the escutcheon fromamongst that heap of armour, he softly opened his window and flung it farout, so that it dropped with a splash into the moat. That done, he wentto bed, and he, too, fell asleep with a smile upon his lips, and in hismind a floating vision of Valentina. She needed a strong and ready handto guide her in this rebellion against the love-at-arms of Gian Maria,and that hand he swore should be his, unless she scorned the offer of it.And so, murmuring her name with a lingering fervour, of whose truesignificance he was all-nescient, he sank to sleep, nor waked again untila thundering at his door aroused him. And to his still dormant sensescame the voice of Lanciotto, laden with hurry and alarm.

"Awake, lord! Up, afoot! We are beset."

CHAPTER XVII

THE ENEMY

The Count leapt from his bed, and hastened to throw wide the door toadmit his servant, who with excited face and voice bore him the news thatGian Maria had reached Roccaleone in the night, and was now encamped inthe plain before the castle.

He was still at his tale when a page came with the message that MonnaValentina besought Messer Francesco's presence in the great hall. Hedressed in all haste, and then, with Lanciotto at his heels, he descendedto answer her summons. As he crossed the second courtyard he beheldValentina's ladies grouped upon the chapel-steps in excited discussion ofthis happening with Fra Domenico, who, in full canonicals, was waiting tosay the morning's Mass. He gave them a courteous "Good morrow," andpassed on to the banqueting-hall, leaving Lanciotto without.

Here he found Valentina in conference with Fortemani. She was pacing thegreat room as she talked; but, beyond that, there was no sign ofexcitement in her bearing, and if any fear of the issue touched her heartnow that the moment for action was at hand, it was wondrously well-suppressed. At sight of Francesco, a look that was partly dismay andpartly pleasure lighted her face. She greeted him with such a smile asshe would bestow in that hour upon none but a trusted friend. Then, witha look of regret:

"I am beyond measure grieved, sir, that you should thus stand committedto my fortunes. They will have told you that already we are besieged,and so you will see how your fate is now bound up with ours. For I fearme there is no road hence for you until Gian Maria raises this siege.The choice of going or remaining is no longer mine. We must remain, andfight this battle out."

"At least, lady," he answered readily, gaily almost, "I cannot share yourregrets for me. The act of yours may be a madness, Madonna, but it isthe bravest, sweetest madness that ever was, and I shall be proud to playmy part if you'll assign me one."

"But, sir, I have no claim upon you!"

"The claim that every beset lady has upon a true knight," he assured her."I could ask no better employment for these arms of mine than in yourdefence against the Duke of Babbiano. I am at your service, and with aglad heart, Monna Valentina. I have seem something of war, and you mayfind me useful."

"Make him Provost of Roccaleone, Madonna," urged Fortemani, whosegratitude to the man who had saved his life was blent with an admiringappreciation of his powers, of which the bully had had such practicalexperience.

"You hear what Ercole says?" she cried, turning to Francesco with asudden eagerness that showed how welcome that suggestion was.

"It were too great an honour," he answered solemnly. "Yet, if you wereto place in my hands that trust, I would defend it to my last breath."

And then, before she could answer him, Gonzaga entered by the side-door,and frowned to see Francesco there before him. He was a trifle pale, hecarried his cloak on the right shoulder, instead of the left, and ingeneral his apparel was less meticulous than usual, and showed signs ofhasty donning. With a curt nod to the Count, and an utter ignoring ofFortemani--who was scowling upon him in memory of yesterday--he bowed lowbefore Valentina.

"I am distraught, Madonna----" he began, when she cut him short.

"You have little cause to be. Have things fallen out other than weexpected?"

"Perhaps not. Yet I had hoped that Gian Maria would not allow his humourto carry him so far."

"You had hoped that--after the message Messer Francesco brought us?" Andshe looked him over with an eye of sudden understanding. "Yet youexpressed no such hope when you advised this flight to Roccaleone. Youwere all for fighting then. A martial ardour consumed you. Whence thischange? Is it the imminence of danger that gives it a reality too grimfor your appetite?"

There was a scorn in her words that wounded him as she meant it should.His last night's rashness had shown her the need to leave him in no falseopinion of the extent of her esteem, and, in addition, those last wordsof his had shown him revealed in a new light, and she liked him the lessby it.

He inclined his head slightly, shame blazing red in his cheeks, that heshould be thus reproved before Fortemani and that upstart Francesco.That Francesco was an upstart was no longer a matter of surmise with him.His soul assured him of it.

"Madonna," he said, with some show of dignity, ignoring her gibes, "Icame to bear you news that a herald from Gian Maria craves a hearing.Shall I hold parley with him for you?"

"You are too good," she answered sweetly. "I will hear the man myself."

He bowed submissively, and then his eye moved to Francesco.

"We might arrange with him for the safe-conduct of this gentleman," hesuggested.

"There is no hope they would accord it," she answered easily. "Nor couldI hope so if they would, for Messer Francesco has consented to fill theoffice of Provost of Roccaleone. But we are keeping the messengerwaiting. Sirs, will you attend me to the ramparts?"

They bowed, and followed her, Gonzaga coming last, his tread heavy as adrunkard's, his face white to the lips in the bitter rage with which hesaw himself superseded, and read his answer to the hot words that lastnight he had whispered in Valentina's ear.

As they crossed the courtyard Francesco discharged the first act of hisnew office in ordering a half-dozen men-at-arms to fall in behind them,to the end that they might make some show upon the wall when they came toparley with the herald.

They found a tall man on a tall, grey horse, whose polished helm shonelike silver in the morning sun, and whose haubergeon was almost hiddenunder a crimson tabard ornamented with the Sforza lion. He bowed low asValentina appeared, followed by her escort, foremost in which stood theCount of Aquila, his broad castor pulled down upon his brow, so that itleft his face in shadow.

"In the name of my master, the High and Mighty Lord Gian Maria Sforza,Duke of Babbiano, I call upon you to yield, lady, laying down your armsand throwing open your gates."

There followed a pause, at the end of which she asked him was that thesum of his message, or was there something that he had forgotten. Theherald, bowing gracefully upon the arched neck of his caracoling palfrey,answered her that what he had said was all he had been bidden say.

She turned with a bewildered and rather helpless look to those behindher. She wished that the matter might be conducted with due dignity, andher convent rearing left her in doubt of how this might best be achieved.She addressed herself to Francesco.

"Will you give him his answer, my Lord Provost," she said, with a smile,and Francesco, stepping forward and leaning on a merlon of that embattledwall, obeyed her.

"Sir Herald," he said, in a gruff voice that was unlike his own, "willyou tell me since when has the Duke of Babbiano been at war with Urbinothat he should thus beset one of its fortresses, and demand the surrenderof it?"

"His Highness," replied the herald, "is acting with the full sanction ofthe Duke of Urbino in sending this message to the Lady Valentina dellaRovere."

At that Valentina elbowed the Count aside, and forgetting her purpose ofconducting this affair with dignity, she let her woman's tongue deliverthe answer of her heart.

"This message, sir, and the presence here of your master, is but anotherof the impertinences that I have suffered at his hands, and it is thecrowning one. Take you that message back to him, and tell him that whenI am instructed by what right he dares to send you upon such an errand, Imay render him an answer more germane with his challenge."

"Would you prefer, Madonna, that his Highness should come himself tospeak with you?"

"There is nothing I should prefer less. Already has necessity compelledme to have more to say to Gian Maria than I could have wished." And witha proud gesture she signified that the audience was at an end, and turnedto quit the wall.

She had a brief conference with Francesco, during which he consulted heras to certain measures of defence to be taken, and made suggestions, toall of which she agreed, her hopes rising fast to see that here, atleast, she had a man with knowledge of the work to which he had set hishand. It lightened her heart and gave her a glad confidence to look onthat straight, martial figure, the hand so familiarly resting on the hiltof the sword that seemed a part of him, and the eyes so calm; whilst whenhe spoke of perils, they seemed to dwindle 'neath the disdain of them somanifest in his tone.

With Fortemani at his heels he went about the execution of the measureshe had suggested, the bully following him now with the faithful wonder ofa dog for its master, realising that here, indeed, was a soldier offortune by comparison with whom the likes of himself were no better thancamp-followers. Confidence, too, did Ercole gather from that magnetismof Francesco's unfaltering confidence; for he seemed to treat the matteras a great jest, a comedy played for the Duke of Babbiano and at thatsame Duke's expense. And just as Francesco's brisk tone breathedconfidence into Fortemani and Valentina, so, too, did it breathe it intoFortemani's wretched followers. They grew zestful in the reflection ofhis zest, and out of admiration for him they came to admire the businesson which they were engaged, and, finally, to take a pride in the part heassigned to each of them. Within an hour there was such diligent bustlein Roccaleone, such an air of grim gaiety and high spirits, thatValentina, observing it, wondered what manner of magician was this shehad raised to the command of her fortress, who in so little time couldwork so marvellous a change in the demeanour of her garrison.

Once only did Francesco's light-heartedness fail him, and this was when,upon visiting the armoury, he found but one single cask of gunpowderstored there. He turned to Fortemani to inquire where Gonzaga hadbestowed it, and Fortemani being as ignorant as himself upon the subjecthe went forthwith in quest of Gonzaga. After ransacking the castle forhim, he found him pacing the vine-alley in the garden in animatedconversation with Valentina. At his approach the courtier's manner grewmore subdued, and his brows sullen.

"Powder?" faltered Gonzaga, chilled by a sudden apprehension. "Is therenone in the armoury?"

"Yes--one small cask, enough to load a cannon once or twice, leaving usnothing for our hand-guns. Is that your store?"

"If that is all there is in the armoury, that is all we have."

Franceseo stood speechless, staring at him, a dull flush creeping intohis cheeks. In that moment of wrath he forgot their positions, and gavenever a thought to the smarting that must be with Gonzaga at the loss ofrank he had suffered since Valentina had appointed a provost.

"And are these your methods of fortifying Roccaleone?" he asked, in avoice that cut like a knife. "You have laid in good store of wine, aflock of sheep, and endless delicacies, sir," he jeered. "Did you expectto pelt the enemy with these, or did you reckon upon no enemy at all?"

Now this question touched so closely upon the truth, that it fired inGonzaga's bosom an anger that for the moment made a man of him. It wasthe last breath that blew into a blaze the smouldering wrath he carriedin his soul.

His retort came fierce and hot. It was as unmeasured and contemptuous asFrancesco's erst recriminations, and it terminated in a challenge to theCount to meet him on horse or foot, with sword or lance, and that as soonas might be.

But Valentina intervened, and rebuked them both. Yet to Francesco herrebuke was courteous, and ended in a prayer that he should do the bestwith such resources as Roccaleone offered; to Gonzaga it was contemptuousin the last degree, for Francesco's question--which Gonzaga had leftunanswered--coming at a moment when she was full of suspicions ofGonzaga, and the ends he had sought to serve in advising her upon acourse which he had since shown himself so utterly unfitted to guide, hadopened wide her eyes. She remembered how strangely moved he had beenupon learning yesterday that Gian Maria was marching upon Roccaleone, andhow ardently he had advised flight from the fortress--he that had sobravely talked of holding it against the Duke.

They were still wrangling there in a most unseemly fashion when atrumpet-blast reached them from beyond the walls.

She led Francesco away, leaving Gonzaga in the shadow of the vines,reduced well-nigh to tears in the extremity of his mortification.

The herald was returned with the announcement that Valentina's answerleft Gian Maria no alternative but to await the arrival of DukeGuidobaldo, who was then marching to join him. The Duke of Urbino'spresence would be, he thought, ample justification in her eyes for thechallenge Gian Maria had sent, and which he would send again when heruncle arrived to confirm it.

Thereafter, the remainder of the day was passed in peace at Roccaleone,if we except the very hell of unrest that surged in the heart of RomeoGonzaga. He sat disregarded at supper that evening, save by Valentina'sladies and the fool, who occasionally rallied him upon his glumness.Valentina herself turned her whole attention to the Count, and whilstGonzaga--Gonzaga, the poet of burning fancy, the gay songster, theacknowledged wit, the mirror of courtliness--was silent and tongue-tied,this ruffling, upstart swashbuckler entertained them with a sprightlinessthat won him every heart--always excepting that of Romeo Gonzaga.

Francesco made light of the siege in a manner that enlivened every soulpresent with relief. He grew merry at the expense of Gian Maria, andmade it very plain that he could have found naught more captivating tohis warlike fancy than this business upon which an accident had embarkedhim. He was as full of confidence for the issue as he was full of eageranticipation of the fray itself.

Is it wonderful that--never having known any but artificial men; men ofcourt and ante-chamber; men of dainty ways and mincing, affected tricksof speech; in short, such men as circumstance ordains shall surround thegreat--Monna Valentina's eyes should open very wide, the better to beholdthis new pattern of a man, who, whilst clearly a gentleman of highdegree, carried with him an air of the camp rather than the camerion, wasimbued by a spirit of chivalry and adventure, and ignored with a certainlofty dignity, as if beneath his observance, the poses that she was wontto see characterising the demeanour of the gentlemen of his Highness, heruncle.

He was young, moreover, yet no longer callow; comely, yet with a strongmale comeliness; he had a pleasantly modulated voice, yet one that theyhad heard swell into a compelling note of command; he had the mostjoyous, careless laugh in all the world--such a laugh as endears a man toall that hear it--and he indulged it without stint.

Gonzaga sat glum and moody, his heart bursting with the resentment of themean and the incompetent for the man of brilliant parts. But the morrowwas to bring him worse.

The Duke of Urbino arrived next morning, and rode up to the moat inperson, attended only by a trumpeter, who, for the third time, wound anote of challenge to the fortress.

As on the previous day, Valentina answered the summons, attended byFrancesco, Fortemani and Gonzaga--the latter uninvited yet not denied,and following sullenly in her train, in a last, despairing attempt toassert himself one of her captains.

Francesco had put on his harness, and came arrayed from head to foot inresplendent steel, to do worthy honour to the occasion. A bunch ofplumes nodded in his helm, and for all that his beaver was open, yet theshadows of the head-piece afforded at the distance sufficient concealmentto his features.

The sight of her uncle left Valentina unmoved. Well-beloved though hewas of his people, between himself and his niece he had made no effortever to establish relations of affection. Less than ever did he now seekto prevail by the voice of kinship. He came in the panoply of war, as aprince to a rebel subject, and in precisely such a tone did he greet her.

"Monna Valentina," he said--seeming entirely to overlook the circumstancethat she was his kinswoman--"deeply though this rebellion grieves me, youare not to think that your sex shall gain you any privileges or anyclemency. We will treat you precisely as we would any other rebelsubject who acted as you have done."

"Highness," she replied, "I solicit no privilege beyond that to which mysex gives me the absolute right, and which has no concern with war andarms. I allude to the privilege of disposing of myself, my hand andheart, as it shall please me. Until you come to recognise that I am awoman endowed with a woman's nature, and until, having realised it, youare prepared to submit to it, and pass me your princely word to urge theDuke of Babbiano's suit no further with me, here will I stay in spite ofyou, your men-at-arms, and your paltry ally, Gian Maria, who imaginesthat love may be made successfully in armour, and that a way to a woman'sheart is to be opened with cannon-shot."

"I think we shall bring you to a more subjective and dutiful frame ofmind, Madonna," was the grim answer.

"Dutiful to whom?"

"To the State, a princess of which you have had the honour to be born."

"And what of my duty to myself, to my heart, and to my womanhood? Is noaccount to be taken of that?"

"These are matters, Madonna, that are not to be discussed in shouts fromthe walls of a castle--nor, indeed, do I wish to discuss them anywhere.I am here to summon you to surrender. If you resist us, you do so atyour peril."

"Then at my peril I will resist you--gladly. I defy you. Do your worstagainst me, disgrace your manhood and the very name of chivalry bywhatsoever violence may occur to you, yet I promise you that Valentinadella Rovere never shall become the wife of his Highness of Babbiano."

"You refuse to open your gates?" he returned, in a voice that shook withanger.

"Utterly and finally."

"And you think to persist in this?"

"As long as I have life."

The Prince laughed sardonically.

"I wash my hands of the affair and of its consequences," he answeredgrimly. "I leave it in the care of your future husband, Gian MariaSforza, and if, in his very natural eagerness for the nuptials, he usesyour castle roughly, the blame of it must rest with you. But what hedoes, he does with my full sanction, and I have come hither to advise youof it since you appeared in doubt. I beg that you will remain there fora few moments, to hear what his Highness himself may have to say. Itrust his eloquence may prove more persuasive."

He saluted ceremoniously, and, wheeling his horse about, he rode away.Valentina would have withdrawn, but Francesco urged her to remain, andawait the Duke of Babbiano's coming. And so they paced the battlements,Valentina in earnest talk with Francesco, Gonzaga following in moodysilence with Fortemani, and devouring them with his eyes.

From their eminence they surveyed the bustling camp in the plain, wheretents, green, brown, and white, were being hastily erected by half-stripped soldiers. The little army altogether, may have numbered ahundred men, which, in his vainglory, Gian Maria accounted all that wouldbe needed to reduce Roccaleone. But the most formidable portion of hisforces rolled into the field even as they watched. It was heralded by ahoarse groaning of the wheels of bullock-carts to the number of ten, oneach of which was borne a cannon. Other carts followed with ammunitionand victuals for the men encamped.

They looked on with interest at the busy scene that was toward, and asthey watched they saw Guidobaldo ride into the heart of the camp, anddismount. Then from out of a tent more roomy and imposing than the restadvanced the short, stout figure of Gian Maria, not to be recognised atthat distance save by the keen eyes of Francesco that were familiar withhis shape.

A groom held a horse for him and assisted him to mount, and then,attended by the same trumpeter that had escorted Guidobaldo, he rodeforward towards the castle. At the edge of the moat he halted, and atsight of Valentina and her company, he doffed his feathered hat, andbowed his straw-coloured head.

"Monna Valentina," he called, and when she stepped forth in answer, heraised his little, cruel eyes in a malicious glance and showed the roundmoon of his white face to be whiter even, than its wont--a palloratrabilious and almost green.

"I am grieved that his Highness, your uncle, should not have prevailedwith you. Where he has failed, I may have little hope of succeeding--bythe persuasion of words. Yet I would beg you to allow me to have speechof your captain, whoever he may be."

The Duke stirred on his horse, and peered up at the speaker. But therewas too little of his face visible for recognition, whilst his voice wasaltered and his figure dissembled in its steel casing.

"Who are you, rogue?" he asked.

"Rogue in your teeth, be you twenty times a Duke," returned the other, atwhich Valentina laughed outright.

Never from the day when he had uttered his first wail had his Highness ofBabbiano heard words of such import from the lips of living man. Apurple flush mottled his cheeks at the indignity of it.

"Attend to me, knave!" he bellowed. "Whatever betide the rest of thismisguided garrison when ultimately it falls into my hands, for you I canpromise a rope and a cross-beam."

"Bah!" sneered the knight. "First catch your bird. Be none so sure thatRoccaleone ever will fall into your hands. While I live you do not enterhere, and my life, Highness, is for me a precious thing, which I'll notpart with lightly."

Valentina's eyes were mirthless now as she turned them upon thatgleaming, martial figure standing so proudly at her side, and seeming sowell-attuned to the proud defiance he hurled at the princely bully below.

"Madonna," said the Duke, without further heeding Francesco, "I give youtwenty-four hours in which to resolve upon your action. Yonder you seethem bringing the cannon into camp. When you wake to-morrow you shallfind those guns trained upon your walls. Meanwhile, enough said. May Ispeak a word with Messer Gonzaga ere I depart."

"So that you depart, you may say a word to whom you will," she answeredcontemptuously. And, turning aside, she motioned Gonzaga to the crenelshe abandoned.

"I'll swear that mincing jester is trembling already with the fear ofwhat is to come," bawled the Duke, "and perhaps fear will show him theway to reason. "Messer Gonzaga!" he called, raising his voice. "As Ibelieve the men of Roccaleone are in your service, I call upon you to bidthem throw down that drawbridge, and in the name of Guidobaldo as well asmy own, I promise them free pardon and no hurt--saving only that rascalat your side. But if your knaves resist me, I promise you that when Ishall have dashed Roccaleone stone from stone, not a man of you all willI spare."

"We have heard your terms," he answered, "and we are not like to heedthem. Waste not the day in vain threats."

"Sir, my terms were not for you. I know you not; I addressed you not,nor will I suffer myself to be addressed by you."

"Linger there another moment," answered the vibrating voice of theknight, "and you will find yourself addressed with a volley of arquebuse-shot. Olá, there!" he commanded, turning and addressing an imaginarybody of men on the lower ramparts of the garden, to his left."Arquebusiers to the postern! Blow your matches! Make ready! Now, myLord Duke, will you draw off, or must we blow you off?"

The Duke's reply took the form of a bunch of blasphemous threats of howhe would serve his interlocutor when he came to set hands on him.

"Present arms!" roared the knight to his imaginary arquebusiers,whereupon, without another word, the Duke turned his horse and rode offin disgraceful haste, his trumpeter following hot upon his heels, pursuedby a derisive burst of laughter from Francesco.

CHAPTER XVIII

TREACHERY

"Sir," gulped Gonzaga, as they were descending from the battlements, "youwill end by having us all hanged. Was that a way to address a prince?"

Valentina frowned that he should dare rebuke her knight. But Francescoonly laughed.

"By St. Paul! How would you have had me address him?" he inquired."Would you have had me use cajolery with him--the lout? Would you havehad me plead mercy from him, and beg him, in honeyed words, to be patientwith a wilful lady? Let be, Messer Gonzaga, we shall weather it yet,never doubt it."

"Messer Gonzaga's courage seems of a quality that wanes as the need forit increases," said Valentina.

That Gonzaga was not the only one entertaining this opinion they weresoon to learn, for, as they reached the courtyard a burly, black-browedruffian, Cappoccio by name, thrust himself in their path.

"A word with you, Messer Gonzaga, and you, Ser Ercole." His attitude wasfull of truculent insolence, and all paused, Francesco and Valentinaturning from him to the two men whom he addressed, and waiting to hearwhat he might have to say to them. "When I accepted service under you, Iwas given to understand that I was entering a business that should entaillittle risk to my skin. I was told that probably there would be nofighting, and that if there were, it would be no more than a brush withthe Duke's men. So, too, did you assure my comrades."

"Msser Gonzaga," she said at length, "I think that I begin to know you."

But Cappoccio, who was nowise interested in the extent of Valentina'sknowledge of the man, broke in impetuously:

"Now we have heard what has passed between this new Provost here and hisHighness of Babbiano. We have heard the terms that were offered, and hisrejection of them, and I am come to tell you, Ser Ercole, and you, MesserGonzaga, that I for one will not remain here to be hanged when Roccaleoneshall fall into the hands of Gian Maria. And there are others of mycomrades who are of the same mind."

Valentina looked at the rugged, determined features of the man, and fearfor the first time stole into her heart and was reflected on hercountenance. She was half-turning to Gonzaga, to vent upon him some ofthe bitterness of her humour--for him she accounted to blame--when onceagain Francesco came to the rescue.

"Now, shame on you, Cappoccio, for a paltry hind! Are these words forthe ears of a besieged and sorely harassed lady, craven?"

"I am no craven," the man answered hoarsely, his face flushing under thewhip of Francesco's scorn. "Out in the open I will take my chances, andfight in any cause that pays me. But this is not my trade--this waitingfor the death of a trapped rat."

Francesco met his eyes steadily for a moment, then glanced at the othermen, to the number of a half-score or so--all, in fact, whom the dutieshe had apportioned them did not hold elsewhere. They hung in the rear ofCappoccio, all ears for what was being said, and their countenancesplainly showing how their feelings were in sympathy with their spokesman.

"And you a soldier, Cappoccio?" sneered Francesco. "Shall I tell you inwhat Fortemani was wrong when he enlisted you? He was wrong in nothiring you for scullion duty in the castle kitchen."

"Sir Knight!"

"Bah! Do you raise your voice to me? Do you think I am of your kind,animal, to be affrighted by sounds--however hideous?"

"I am not affrighted by sounds."

"Are you not? Why, then, all this ado about a bunch of empty threatscast at us by the Duke of Babbiano? If you were indeed the soldier youwould have us think you, would you come here and say, 'I will not diethis way, or that'? Confess yourself a boaster when you tell us that youare ready to die in the open."

"Nay! That am I not."

"Then, if you are ready to die out there, why not in here? Shall itsignify aught to him that dies where he gets his dying done? Butreassure yourself, you woman," he added, with a laugh, and in a voiceloud enough to be heard by the others, "you are not going to die--neitherhere, nor there."

"When Roccaleone capitulates----"

"It will not capitulate," thundered Francesco.

"Well, then--when it is taken."

"Nor will it be taken," the Provost insisted, with an assurance thatcarried conviction. "If Gian Maria had time unlimited at his command, hemight starve us into submission. But he has not. An enemy is menacinghis own frontiers, and in a few days--a week, at most--he will be forcedto get him hence to defend his crown."

"The greater reason for him to use stern measures and bombard us as hethreatens," answered Cappoccio shrewdly but rather in the tone of a manwho expects to have his argument disproved. And Francesco, if he couldnot disprove it, could at least contradict it.

"Believe it not," he cried, with a scornful laugh. "I tell you that GianMaria will never dare so much. And if he did, are these walls that willcrumble at a few cannon-shots? Assault he might attempt; but I need nottell a soldier that twenty men who are stout and resolute, as I willbelieve you are for all your craven words, could hold so strong a placeas this against the assault of twenty times the men the Duke has withhim. And for the rest, if you think I tell you more than I believemyself, I ask you to remember how I am included in Gian Maria's threat.I am but a soldier like you, and such risks as are yours are mine aswell. Do you see any sign of faltering in me, any sign of doubting theissue, or any fear of a rope that shall touch me no more than it shalltouch you? There, Cappoccio! A less merciful provost would have hangedyou for your words--for they reek of sedition. Yet I have stood andargued with you, because I cannot spare a brave man such as you willprove yourself. Let us hear no more of your doubtings. They areunworthy. Be brave and resolute, and you shall find yourself wellrewarded when the baffled Duke shall be forced to raise this siege."

He turned without waiting for the reply of Cappoccio--who stoodcrestfallen, his cheeks reddened by shame of his threat to get him hence--and conducted Valentina calmly across the yard and up the steps of thehall.

It was his way never to show a doubt that his orders would be obeyed, yeton this occasion scarce had the door of the hall closed after them whenhe turned sharply to the following Ercole.

"Get you an arquebuse," he said quickly, "and take my man Lanciotto, withyou. Should those dogs still prove mutinous, fire into any that attemptthe gates--fire to kill--and send me word. But above all, Ercole, do notlet them see you or suspect your presence; that were to undermine sucheffect as my words may have produced."

From out of a woefully pale face Valentina raised her brown eyes to his,in a look that was as a stab to the observing Gonzaga.

"I needed a man here," she said, "and I think that Heaven it must havebeen that sent you to my aid. But do you think," she asked, and with hereyes she closely scanned his face for any sign of doubt, "that they arepacified?"

"I am assured of it, Madonna. Come, there are signs of tears in youreyes, and--by my soul!--there is naught to weep at."

"I am but a woman, after all," she smiled up at him, "and so, subject toa woman's weakness. It seemed as if the end were indeed come just now.It had come, but for you. If they should mutiny----"

"They shall not, while I am here," he answered, with a cheeringconfidence. And she, full of faith in this true knight of hers, went toseek her ladies, and to soothe in her turn any alarm to which they mighthave fallen a prey.

Francesco went to disarm, and Gonzaga to take the air upon the ramparts,his heart a very bag of gall. His hatred for the interloper was asnothing now to his rage against Valentina, a rage that had its birth in awondering uncomprehension of how she should prefer that coarse,swashbuckling bully to himself, the peerless Gonzaga. And as he walkedthere, under the noontide sky, the memory of Francesco's assurance thatthe men would not mutiny returned to him, and he caught himself mostardently desiring that they might, if only to bear it home to Valentinahow misplaced was her trust, how foolish her belief in that loud boaster.He thought next--and with increasing bitterness--of his own braveschemes, of his love for Valentina, and of how assured he had been thathis affections were returned, before this ruffler came amongst them. Helaughed in bitter scorn as the thought returned to her preferringFrancesco to himself. Well, it might be so now--now that the times werewarlike, and this Francesco was such a man as shone at his best in them.But what manner of companion would this sbirro make in times of peace?Had he the wit, the grace, the beauty even that was Gonzaga's?Circumstance, it seemed to him, was here to blame, and he roundly cursedthat same Circumstance. In other surroundings, he was assured thatshe would not have cast an eye upon Francesco whilst he, himself, was by;and if he recalled their first meeting at Acquasparta, it was again tocurse Circumstance for having placed the knight in such case as to appealto the tenderness that is a part of woman's nature.

He reflected--assured that he was right--that if Francesco had not cometo Roccaleone, he might by now have been wed to Valentina; and once wed,he could throw down the bridge and march out of Roccaleone, assured thatGian Maria would not care to espouse his widow, and no less assured thatGuidobaldo--who was at heart a kind and clement prince--would be contentto let be what was accomplished, since there would be naught gainedbeyond his niece's widowhood in hanging Gonzaga. It was the speciousargument that had lured him upon this rash enterprise, the hopes that hewas confident would have fructified but for the interloping of Francesco.

He stood looking down at the tented plain, with black rage and blackdespair blotting the beauty from the sunlight of that May morning, andthen it came to him that since there was naught to be hoped from his oldplans, might it not be wise to turn his attention to new ones that would,at least, save him from hanging? For he was assured that whatever mightbetide the others, his own fate was sealed, whether Roccaleone fell ornot. It would be remembered against him that the affair was of hisinstigating, and from neither Gian Maria nor Guidobaldo might he look formercy.

And now the thought of extricating himself from his desperate perilturned him cold by its suddenness. He stood very still a moment; thenlooked about him as though he feared that some watching spy might read onhim the ugly intention that of a sudden had leapt to life in his heart.Swiftly it spread, and took more definite shape, the reflection of itshowing now upon his smooth, handsome face, and disfiguring it beyondbelief. He drew away from the wall, and took a turn or two upon theramparts, one hand behind him, the other raised to support his droopingchin. Thus he brooded for a little while. Then, with another of hisfurtive glances, he turned to the north-western tower, and entered thearmoury. There he rummaged until he had found the pen, ink and paperthat he sought, and with the door wide open--the better that he mighthear the sound of approaching steps--he set himself feverishly to write.It was soon done, and he stood up, waving the sheet to dry the ink. Thenhe looked it over again, and this is what he had written:

"I have it in my power to stir the garrison to mutiny and to throw openthe gates of Roccaleone. Thus shall the castle fall immediately intoyour hands, and you shall have a proof of how little I am in sympathywith this rebellion of Monna Valentina's. What terms do you offer me ifI accomplish this? Answer me now, and by the same means as I amemploying, but dispatch not your answer if I show myself upon theramparts. "ROMEO GONZAGA."

He folded the paper, and on the back he wrote the superscription--"To theHigh and Mighty Duke of Babbiano." Then opening a large chest that stoodagainst the wall, he rummaged a moment, and at last withdrew an arbalestquarrel. About the body of this he tied his note. Next, from the wallhe took down a cross-bow, and from a corner a moulinet for winding it.With his foot in the stirrup he made the cord taut and set the shaft inposition.

And now he closed the door, and, going to the window, which was littlemore than an arrow-slit, he shouldered his arbalest. He took careful aimin the direction of the ducal tent, and loosed the quarrel. He watchedits light, and it almost thrilled him with pride in his archery to see itstrike the tent at which he had aimed, and set the canvas shuddering.

In a moment there was a commotion. Men ran to the spot, others emergedfrom the tent, and amongst the latter Gonzaga recognised the figures ofGian Maria and Guidobaldo.

The bolt was delivered to the Duke of Babbiano, who, with an upwardglance at the ramparts, vanished into the tent once more.

Gonzaga moved from his eerie, and set wide the door of the tower, so thathis eyes could range the whole of the sun-bathed ramparts. Returning tohis window, he waited impatiently for the answer. Nor was his impatienceto endure long. At the end of some ten minutes Gian Maria reappeared,and, summoning an archer to his side, he delivered him something and madea motion of his hand towards Roccaleone. Gonzaga moved to the door, andstood listening breathlessly. At the least sign of an approach, he wouldhave shown himself, and thus, by the provision made in his letter havecautioned the archer against shooting his bolt. But all was quiet, andso Gonzaga remained where he was until something flashed like a birdacross his vision, struck sharply against the posterior wall, and fellwith a tinkle on the broad stones of the rampart. A moment later theanswer from Gian Maria was in his hands.

He swiftly unwound it from the shaft that had brought it, and dropped thebolt into a corner. Then unfolding the letter, he read it, leaningagainst one of the merlons of the wall.

"If you can devise a means to deliver Roccaleone at once into my handsyou shall earn my gratitude, full pardon for your share in MonnaValentina's rebellion, and the sum of a thousand gold florins. "GIAN MARIA."

As he read, a light of joy leapt to his eyes. Gian Maria's terms werevery generous. He would accept them, and Valentina should realise whentoo late upon what manner of broken reed she leaned in relying uponMesser Francesco. Would he save her now, as he so loudly boasted? Wouldthere indeed be no mutiny, as he so confidently prophesied? Gonzagachuckled evilly to himself. She should learn her lesson, and when shewas Gian Maria's wife, she might perhaps repent her of her treatment ofRomeo Gonzaga.

He laughed softly to himself. Then suddenly he turned cold, and he felthis skin roughening. A stealthy step sounded behind him.

He crumpled the Duke's letter in his hand, and in the alarm of themoment, he dropped it over the wall. Seeking vainly to compose thefeatures that a chilling fear had now disturbed, he turned to see whocame.

"You were seeking me?" quoth Romeo, and the quaver in his voice sortedill with his arrogance.

The fool made him a grotesque bow.

"Monna Valentina desires that you attend her in the garden, Illustrious."

CHAPTER XIX

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

Peppe's quick eyes had seen Gonzaga crumple and drop the paper, no lessthan he had observed the courtier's startled face, and his suspicions hadbeen aroused. He was by nature prying, and experience had taught himthat the things men seek to conceal are usually the very things itimports most to have knowledge of. So when Gonzaga had gone, inobedience to Valentina's summons, the jester peered carefully over thebattlements.

At first he saw nothing, and he was concluding with disappointment thatthe thing Gonzaga had cast from him was lost in the torrential waters ofthe moat. But presently, lodged on a jutting stone, above the foamingstream into which it would seem that a miracle had prevented it fromfalling, he espied a ball of crumpled paper. He observed withsatisfaction that it lay some ten feet immediately below the postern-gateby the drawbridge.

Secretly, for it was not Peppy's way to take men into his confidencewhere it might be avoided, he got himself a coil of rope. Havingdescended and quietly opened the postern, he made one end fast andlowered the other to the water with extreme care, lest he shoulddislodge, and so lose, that paper.

Assuring himself again that he was unobserved, he went down, hand overhand, like a monkey, his feet against the rough-hewn granite of the wall.Then, with a little swinging of the rope, he brought himself nearer thatcrumpled ball, his legs now dangling in the angry water, and by a mightystretch that all but precipitated him into the torrent, he seized thepaper and transferred it to his teeth. Then hand over hand again, andwith a frantic haste, for he feared observation not only from the castlesentries but also from the watchers in the besieger's camp, he climbedback to the postern, exulting in that he had gone unobserved, andcontemptuous for the vigilance of those that should have observed him.

Softly he closed the wicket, locked it and shot home the bolts at top andbase, and went to replace the key on its nail in the guard-room, which hefound untenanted. Next, with that mysterious letter in his hand, hescampered off across the courtyard and through the porch leading to thedomestic quarters, nor paused until he had gained the kitchen, where FraDomenico was roasting the quarter of a lamb that he had that morningbutchered. For now that the siege was established, there was no morefish from the brook, nor hares and ortolans from the country-side.

The friar cursed the fool roundly, as was his wont upon every occasion,for he was none so holy that he disdained the milder forms of objurgatoryoaths. But Peppe for once had no vicious answer ready, a matter that ledthe Dominican to ask him was he ill.

Never heeding him, the fool unfolded and smoothed the crumpled paper in acorner by the fire. He read it and whistled, then stuffed it into thebosom of his absurd tunic.

"What ails you?" quoth the friar. "What have you there?"

"A recipe for a dish of friar's brains. A most rare delicacy, andrendered costly by virtue of the scarcity of the ingredients." And withthat answer Peppe was gone, leaving the monk with an ugly look in hiseyes, and an unuttered imprecation on his tongue.

Straight to the Count of Aquila went the fool with his letter. Francescoread it, and questioned him closely as to what he knew of the manner inwhich it had come into Gonzaga's possession. For the rest, those lines,far from causing him the uneasiness Peppe expected, seemed a source ofsatisfaction and assurance to him.

"He offers a thousand gold florins," he muttered, "in addition toGonzaga's liberty and advancement. Why, then, I have said no more thanwas true when I assured the men that Gian Maria was but idly threateningus with bombardment. Keep this matter secret, Peppe."

"But you will watch Messer Gonzaga?" quoth the fool.

"Watch him? Why, where is the need? You do not imagine him so vile thatthis offer could tempt him?"

"Now, shame on you for that thought. Messer Gonzaga may be an idle lute-thrummer, a poor-spirited coward; but a traitor----! And to betray MonnaValentina! No, no."

But the fool was far from reassured. He had had the longer acquaintanceof Messer Gonzaga, and his shrewd eyes had long since taken the man'sexact measure. Let Francesco scorn the notion of betrayal at Romeo'shands; Peppe would dog him like a shadow. This he did for the remainderof that day, clinging to Gonzaga as if he loved him dearly, and furtivelyobserving the man's demeanour. Yet he saw nothing to confirm hissuspicions beyond a certain preoccupied moodiness on the courtier's part.

That night, as they supped, Gonzaga pleaded toothache, and withValentina's leave he quitted the table at the very outset of the meal.Peppe rose to follow him, but as he reached the door, his natural enemy,the friar--ever anxious to thwart him where he could--caught him by thenape of the neck, and flung him unceremoniously back into the room.

"Have you a toothache too, good-for-naught?" quoth the frate. "Stay youhere and help me to wait upon the company."

"Let me go, good Fra Domenico," the fool whispered, in a voice so earnestthat the monk left his way clear. But Valentina's voice now bade himstay with them, and so his opportunity was lost.

He moved about the room a very dispirited, moody fool with no quip foranyone, for his thoughts were all on Gonzaga and the treason that he wassure he was hatching. Yet faithful to Francesco, who sat allunconcerned, and not wishing to alarm Valentina, he choked back thewarning that rose to his lips, seeking to convince himself that his fearssprang perhaps from an excess of suspicion. Had he known how well-founded indeed they were he might have practised less self-restraint.

For whilst he moved sullenly about the room, assisting Fra Domenico withthe dishes and platters, Gonzaga paced the ramparts beside Cappoccio, whowas on sentry duty on the north wall.

His business called for no great diplomacy, nor did Gonzaga employ much.He bluntly told Cappoccio that he and his comrades had allowed MesserFrancesco's glib tongue to befool them that morning, and that theassurances Francesco had given them were not worthy of an intelligentman's consideration.

"I tell you, Cappoccio," he ended, "that to remain here and protract thishopeless resistance will cost you your life at the unsavoury hands of thehangman. You see I am frank with you."

Now for all that what Gonzaga told him might sort excellently well withthe ideas he had himself entertained, Cappoccio was of a suspiciousnature, and his suspicions whispered to him now that Gonzaga was actuatedby some purpose he could not gauge.

He stood still, and leaning with both hands upon his partisan, he soughtto make out the courtier's features in the dim light of the rising moon.

"Do you mean," he asked, and in his voice sounded the surprise with whichGonzaga's odd speech had filled him, "that we are foolish to havelistened to Messer Francesco, and that we should be better advised tomarch out of Roccaleone?"

"Yes; that is what I mean."

"But why," he insisted, his surprise increasing, "do you urge such acourse upon us?"

"Because, Cappoccio," was the plausible reply, "like yourselves, I waslured into this business by insidious misrepresentations. The assurancesthat I gave Fortemani, and with which he enrolled you into his service,were those that had been given to me. I did not bargain with such adeath as awaits us here, and I frankly tell you that I have no stomachfor it."

"I begin to understand," murmured Cappoccio, sagely wagging his head, andthere was a shrewd insolence in his tone and manner. "When we leaveRoccaleone you come with us?"

Gonzaga nodded.

"But why do you not say these things to Fortemani?" questioned Cappoccio,still doubting.

"Fortemani!" echoed Gonzaga. "By the Host, no! The man is bewitched bythat plausible rogue, Francesco. Far from resenting the fellow'streatment of him, he follows and obeys his every word, like the mean-spirited dog that he is."

Again Cappoccio sought to scrutinise Gonzaga's face. But the light wasindifferent.

"Are you dealing with me fairly?" he asked. "Or does some deeper purposelie under your wish that we should rebel against the lady?"

"My friend," answered Gonzaga, "do you but wait until Gian Maria's heraldcomes for his answer in the morning. Then you will learn again the termson which your lives are offered you. Do nothing until then. But whenyou hear yourselves threatened with the rope and the wheel, bethink youof what course you will be best advised in pursuing. You ask me whatpurpose inspires me. I have already told you--for I am as open as thedaylight with you--that I am inspired by the purpose of saving my ownneck. Is not that purpose enough?"

A laugh of such understanding as would have set a better man on fire withindignation was the answer he received.

"Why, yes, it is more than enough. To-morrow, then, my comrades and Imarch out of Roccaleone. Count upon that."

"But do not accept my word. Wait until the herald comes again. Donothing until you have heard the terms he brings."

"Why, no, assuredly not."

"And do not let it transpire among your fellows that it is I who havesuggested this."

Gonzaga sought his bed. A fierce joy consumed him at having soconsummately planned Valentina's ruin, yet he did not wish to face heragain that night.

But when on the morrow the herald wound his horn again beneath the castlewalls, Gonzaga was prominent in the little group that attended MonnaValentina. The Count of Aquila was superintending the work to which hehad set a half-score of men. With a great show, and as much noise aspossible--by which Francesco intended that the herald should beimpressed--they were rolling forward four small culverins and some threecannons of larger calibre, and planting them so that they made a menacingshow in the crenels of the parapet.

Whilst watching and directing the men, he kept his ears open for themessage, and he heard the herald again recite the terms on which thegarrison might surrender, and again the threat to hang every man from thecastle-walls if they compelled him to reduce them by force of arms. Hebrought his message to an end by announcing that in his extreme clemencyGian Maria accorded them another half-hour's grace in which to resolvethemselves upon their course. Should the end of that time still findthem obstinate, the bombardment would commence. Such was the messagethat in another of his arrow-borne letters Gonzaga had suggested GianMaria should send.

It was Francesco who stepped forward to reply. He had been stooping overone of the guns, as if to assure himself of the accuracy of its aim, andas he rose he pronounced himself satisfied in a voice loud enough for theherald's hearing. Then he advanced to Valentina's side, and whilst hestood there delivering his answer he never noticed the silent departureof the men from the wall.

"You will tell his Highness of Babbiano," he replied, "that he reminds usof the boy in the fable who cried 'Wolf!' too often. Tell him, sir, thathis threats leave this garrison as unmoved as do his promises. If so bethat he intends in truth to bombard us, let him begin forthwith. We areready for him, as you perceive. Maybe he did not suppose us equippedwith cannon; but there they stand. Those guns are trained upon his camp,and the first shot he fires upon us shall be a signal for such a reply ashe little dreams of. Tell him, too, that we expect no quarter, and willyield none. We are unwilling for bloodshed, but if he drives us to itand executes his purpose of employing cannon, then the consequences beupon his own head. Bear him that answer, and tell him to send you nomore with empty threats."

The herald bowed upon the withers of his horse. The arrogance, the coldimperiousness of the message struck him dumb with amazement. Amazementwas his, too, that Roccaleone should be armed with cannon, as with hisown eyes he saw. That those guns were empty he could not guess, norcould Gian Maria when he heard a message that filled him with rage, andwould have filled him with dismay, but that he counted upon the mutinywhich Gonzaga had pledged himself to stir up.

As the herald was riding away a gruff laugh broke from Fortemani, whostood behind the Count.

Valentina turned to Francesco with eyes that beamed admiration and asingular tenderness.

"Oh, what had I done without you, Messer Francesco?" she cried, forsurely the twentieth time since his coming. "I tremble to think howthings had gone without your wit and valour to assist me." She nevernoticed the malicious smile that trembled on Gonzaga's pretty face."Where did you find the powder?" she asked innocently, for her mind hadnot yet caught that humour of the situation that had drawn a laugh fromFortemani.

"I found none," answered Francesco, smiling from the shadow of his helm."My threats"--and he waved his hand in the direction of that formidablearray of guns--"are as empty as Gian Maria's. Yet I think they willimpress him more than his do us. I will answer for it, Madonna, thatthey deter him from bombarding us--if so be that he ever intended to. Solet us go and break our fast with a glad courage."

"Those guns are empty?" she gasped. "And you could talk so boldly andthreaten so defiantly!"

Mirth crept now into her face, and thrust back the alarm, a little ofwhich had peeped from her eyes even as she was extolling Francesco.

"There!" he cried joyously. "You are smiling now, Madonna. Nor have youcause for aught else. Shall we descend? This early morning work hasgiven me the hunger of a wolf."

She turned to go with him, and in that moment, Peppe, his owlish facespread over with alarm, dashed up the steps from the courtyard.

"Madonna!" he gasped, breathless. "Messer Francesco! The men--Cappoccio---- He is haranguing them. He--is inciting them totreachery."

So, in gasps, he got out his tale, which swept the mirth again fromValentina's eyes, and painted very white her cheek. Strong and bravethough she was, she felt her senses swimming at that sudden revulsionfrom confidence to fear. Was all indeed ended at the very moment whenhope had reached its high meridian?

"You are faint, Madonna; lean on me."

It was Gonzaga who spoke. But beyond the fact that the words had beenuttered, she realised nothing. She saw an arm advanced, and she took it.Then she dragged Gonzaga with her to the side overlooking the courtyard,that with her own eyes she might have evidence of what was toward.

She heard an oath--a vigorous, wicked oath--from Francesco, followed by acommand, sharp and rasping.

"To the armoury yonder, Peppe! Fetch me a two-handed sword--the stoutestyou can find. Ercole, come with me. Gonzaga---- Nay, you had best stayhere. See to Monna Valentina."

He stepped to her side now, and rapidly surveyed the surging scene below,where Cappoccio was still addressing the men. At sight of Francesco,they raised a fierce yell, as might a pack of dogs that have sightedtheir quarry.

"To the gates!" was the shout. "Down the draw­bridge! We accept theterms of Gian Maria. We will not die like rats."

"By God, but you shall, if I so will it!" snarled Francesco through hisset teeth. Then turning his head in a fever of impatience "Peppe," heshouted, "will you never bring that sword?"

The fool came up at that moment, staggering under the weight of a great,double-edged two-hander, equipped with lugs, and measuring a good sixfeet from point to pummel. Francesco caught it from him, and bending, hemuttered a swift order in Peppino's ear.

"...In the box that stands upon the table in my chamber," Gonzagaoverheard him say. "Now go, and bring it to me in the yard. Speed you,Peppino!"

A look of understanding flashed up from the hunchback's eyes, and as hedeparted at a run Francesco hoisted the mighty sword to his shoulder asthough its weight were that of a feather. In that instant Valentina'swhite hand was laid upon the brassart that steeled his fore-arm.

"What will you do?" she questioned, in a whisper, her eyes dilating withalarm.

"Stem the treachery of that rabble," he answered shortly. "Stay youhere, Madonna. Fortemani and I will pacify them--or make an end ofthem." And so grimly did he say it that Gonzaga believed it to liewithin his power.

"But you are mad!" she cried, and the fear in her eyes increased. "Whatcan you do against twenty?"

"What God pleases," he answered, and for a second put the ferocity fromhis heart that he might smile reassurance.

"But you will be killed," she cried. " Oh! don't go, don't go! Let themhave their way, Messer Francesco. Let Gian Maria invest the castle. Icare not, so that you do not go."

Her voice, and the tale it told of sweet anxiety for his fate overrulingeverything else in that moment--even her horror of Gian Maria--quickenedhis blood to the pace of ecstasy. He was taken by a wild longing tocatch her in his arms--this lady hitherto so brave and daunted now by thefear of his peril only. Every fibre of his being urged him to gather herto his breast, whilst he poured courage and comfort into her ear. Hefainted almost with desire to kiss those tender eyes, upturned to his inher piteous pleading that he should not endanger his own life. Butsuppressing all, he only smiled, though very tenderly.

"Be brave, Madonna, and trust in me a little. Have I failed you yet?Need you then fear that I shall fail you now?"

At that she seemed to gather courage. The words reawakened herconfidence in his splendid strength.

"We shall laugh over this when we break our fast," he cried. "Come,Ercole!" And without waiting for more, he leapt down the steps with anagility surprising in one so heavily armed as he.

They were no more than in time. As they gained the courtyard the mencame sweeping along towards the gates, their voices raucous andthreatening. They were full of assurance. All hell they thought couldnot have hindered them, and yet at sight of that tall figure, bright asan angel, in his panoply of glittering steel, with that great swordpoised on his left shoulder, some of the impetuousness seemed to fallfrom them.

Still they advanced, Cappoccio's voice shouting encouragement. Almostwere they within range of that lengthy sword, when of a sudden it flashedfrom his shoulder, and swept a half-circle of dazzling light before theireyes. Round his head it went, and back again before them, handled asthough it had been a whip, and bringing them, silent, to a standstill.He bore it back to his shoulder, and alert for the first movement, hisblood on fire, and ready to slay a man or two should the example becomenecessary, he addressed them.

"You see what awaits you if you persist in this," he said, in adangerously quiet voice. "Have you no shame, you herd of cowardlyanimals! You are loud-voiced enough where treason to the hand that paysyou is in question; but there, it seems, your valour ends."

He spoke to them now in burning words. He recapitulated the argumentswhich yesterday he had made use of to quell the mutinous spirit ofCappoccio. He assured them that Gian Maria threatened more than he couldaccomplish; and so, perhaps, more than he would fulfil if they were sofoolish as to place themselves in his power. Their safety, he pointedout to them, lay here, behind these walls. The siege could not longendure. They had a stout ally in Caesar Borgia, and he was marching uponBabbiano by then, so that Gian Maria must get him home perforce ere long.Their pay was good, he reminded them, and if the siege were soon raisedthey should be well rewarded.

"Gian Maria threatens to hang you when he captures Roccaleone. But evenshould he capture it, do you think he would be allowed to carry out soinhuman a threat? You are mercenaries, after all, in the pay of MonnaValentina, on whom and her captains the blame must fall. This is Urbino,not Babbiano, and Gian Maria is not master here. Do you think the nobleand magnanimous Guidobaldo would let you hang? Have you so poor anopinion of your Duke? Fools! You are as safe from violence as are thoseladies in the gallery up there. For Guidobaldo would no more think ofharming you than of permitting harm to come to them. If any hangingthere is it will be for me, and perhaps for Messer Gonzaga who hired you.Yet, do I talk of throwing down my arms? What think you holds me here?Interest--just as interest holds you--and if I think the risk worthtaking, why should not you? Are you so tame and so poor-spirited that athreat is to vanquish you? Will you become a byword in Italy, and whenmen speak of cowardice, will you have them say: 'Craven as MonnaValentina's garrison'?"

In this strain he talked to them, now smiting hard with his scorn, nowcajoling them with his assurances, and breeding confidence anew in theirshaken spirits. It was a thing that went afterwards to the making of anepic that was sung from Calabria to Piedmont, how this brave knight, byhis words, by the power of his will and the might of his presence, curbedand subdued that turbulent score of rebellious hinds.

And from the wall above Valentina watched him, her eyes sparkling withtears that had not their source in sorrow nor yet in fear, for she knewthat he must prevail. How could it be else with one so dauntless?

Thus thought she now. But in the moment of his going, fear had chilledher to the heart, and when she first saw him take his stand before them,she had turned half-distraught, and begged Gonzaga not to linger at herside, but to go lend what aid he could to that brave knight who stood sosorely in need of it. And Gonzaga had smiled a smile as pale as Januarysunshine, and his soft blue eyes had hardened in their glance. Notweakness now was it that held him there, well out of the dangerousturmoil. For he felt that had he possessed the strength of Hercules, andthe courage of Achilles, he would not in that instant have moved a stepto Francesco's aid. And as much he told her.

"Why should I, Madonna?" he had returned coldly. "Why should I raise ahand to help the man whom you prefer to me? Why should I draw sword inthe cause of this fortress?"

She looked at him with troubled eyes. "What are you saying, my goodGonzaga?"

"Aye--your good Gonzaga!" he mocked her bitterly. "Your lap-dog, yourlute-thrummer; but not man enough to be your captain; not man enough toearn a thought that is kinder than any earned by Peppe or your hounds. Imay endanger my neck to serve you, to bring you hither to a place ofsafety from Gian Maria's persecution, and be cast aside for one who, ithappens, has a little more knowledge of this coarse trade of arms. Castme aside if you will," he pursued, with increasing bitterness, "buthaving done so, do not ask me to serve you again. Let Messer Francescofight it out----"

"Hush, Gonzaga!" she interrupted. "Let me hear what he is saying."

And her tone told the courtier that his words had been lost upon themorning air. Engrossed in the scene below she had not so much aslistened to his bitter tirade. For now Francesco was behaving oddly.The fool was returned from the errand on which he had been despatched,and Francesco called him to his side. Lowering his sword he received apaper from Peppe's hand.

"I have here a proof," he cried, "of what I tell you; proof of how littleGian Maria is prepared to carry out his threats of cannon. It is thatfellow Cappoccio has seduced you with his talk. And you, like the sheepyou are, let yourselves be driven by his foul tongue. Now listen to thebribe that Gian Maria offers to one within these walls if he can contrivea means to deliver Roccaleone into his hands." And to Gonzaga'sparalysing consternation, he heard Francesco read the letter with whichGian Maria had answered his proposed betrayal of the fortress. He wentwhite with fear and he leant against the low wall to steady the tell-taletrembling that had seized him. Then Francesco's voice, scornful andconfident, floated up to his ears. "I ask you, my friends, would hisHighness of Babbiano be disposed to the payment of a thousand goldflorins if by bombardment he thought to break a way into Roccaleone?This letter was written yesterday. Since then we have made a bravedisplay of cannon ourselves; and if yesterday he dared not fire, thinkyou he will to-day? But here, assure yourselves, if there is one amongstyou that can read."

He held out the letter to them. Cappoccio took it, and calling oneAventano, he held it out in his turn. This Aventano, a youth who hadbeen partly educated for the Church, but had fallen from that loftypurpose, now stood forward and took the letter. He scrutinised it, readit aloud, and pronounced it genuine.

So evil a light leapt to Cappoccio's eye that Francesco carried his freehand to the sword which he had lowered. But Cappoccio only looked up atGonzaga, and grinned malevolently. It had penetrated his dull wits thathe had been the tool of a judas, who sought to sell the castle for athousand florins. Further than that Cappoccio did not see; nor was hevery resentful, and his grin was rather of mockery than of anger. He wastroubled by no lofty notions of honour that should cause him to see inthis deed of Gonzaga's anything more than such a trickster's act as it isalways agreeable to foil. And then, to the others, who knew naught ofwhat was passing in Cappoccio's mind, he did a mighty strange thing.From being the one to instigate them to treachery and mutiny, he was theone now to raise his voice in a stout argument of loyalty. He agreedwith all that Messer Francesco had said, and he, for one, ranged himselfon Messer Francesco's side to defend the gates from any traitors whosought to open them to Gian Maria Sforza.

His defection from the cause of mutiny was the signal for the utterabandoning of that cause itself, and another stout ally came opportunelyto weigh in Francesco's favour was the fact that the half-hour of gracewas now elapsed, and Gian Maria's guns continued silent. He drew theirattention to the fact with a laugh, and bade them go in peace, adding thefresh assurance that those guns would not speak that day, nor the next,nor indeed ever.

Utterly conquered by Francesco and--perhaps even more--by his unexpectedally, Cappoccio, they slunk shamefacedly away to the food and drink thathe bade them seek at Fra Domenico's hands.

CHAPTER XX

THE LOVERS

How came that letter to your hands?" Valentina asked Gonzaga, whenpresently they stood together in the courtyard, whither the courtier hadfollowed her when she descended.

"Wrapped round an arbalest-bolt that fell on the ramparts yesterdaywhilst I was walking there alone," returned Gonzaga coolly.

He had by now regained his composure. He saw that stood in deadly peril,and the very fear that possessed him seemed, by an odd paradox, to lendhim the strength to play his part.

Valentina eyed him with a something of mistrust in her glance. But onFrancesco's clear countenance no shadow of suspicion showed. His eyesalmost smiled as he asked Gonzaga:

"Why did you not bear it to Monna Valentina?"

A flush reddened the courtier's cheeks. He shrugged his shouldersimpatiently, and in a voice that choked with anger he delivered hisreply.

"To you, sir, who seem bred in camps and reared in guard-rooms, thefulness of this insult offered me by Gian Maria may not be apparent. Itmay not be yours to perceive that the very contact of that letter soiledmy hands, that it shamed me unutterably to think that that loutish Dukeshould have deemed me a target for such a shaft. It were idle,therefore, to seek to make you understand how little I could bear tosubmit to the further shame of allowing another to see the affront that Iwas powerless to avenge. I did, sir, with that letter the only thingconceivable. I crumpled it in my hand and cast it from me, just as Isought to cast its contents from my mind. But your watchful spies, SerFrancesco, bore it to you, and if my shame has been paraded before theeyes of that rabble soldiery, at least it has served the purpose ofsaving Monna Valentina. To do that, I would, if the need arose, immolatemore than the pride that caused me to be silent on the matter of thiscommunication."

He spoke with such heat of sincerity that he convinced both Francesco andValentina, and the lady's eyes took on a softer expression as shesurveyed Gonzaga--this poor Gonzaga whom, her heart told her, she hadsorely wronged in thought. Francesco, ever generous, took his passionateutterances in excellent part.

"Messer Gonzaga, I understand your scruples. You do me wrong to thinkthat I should fail in that."

He checked the suggestion he was on the point of renewing that,nevertheless, Gonzaga would have been better advised to have laid thatletter at once before Monna Valentina. Instead, he dismissed the subjectwith a laugh, and proposed that they should break their fast so soon ashe had put off his harness.

He went to do so, whilst Valentina bent her steps towards the dining-room, attended by Gonzaga, to whom she now sought to make amends for hersuspicions by an almost excessive friendliness of bearing.

But there was one whom Gonzaga's high-sounding words in connection withthat letter had left cold. This was Peppe, that most wise of fools. Hehastened after Francesco, and while the knight was disarming he came tovoice his suspicions. But Francesco drove him out with impatience, andPeppe went sorrowing and swearing that the wisdom of the fool was trulybetter than the folly of the wise.

Throughout that day Gonzaga hardly stirred from Valentina's side. Hetalked with her in the morning at great length and upon subjects poeticalor erudite, by which he meant to display his vast mental superiority overthe swashbuckling Francesco. In the evening, when the heat of the daywas spent, and whilst that same Messer Francesco was at some defensivemeasures on the walls, Gonzaga played at bowls with Valentina and herladies--the latter having now recovered from the panic to which earlierthey had been a prey.

That morning Gonzaga had stood at bay, seeing his plans crumble. Thatevening, after the day spent in Valentina's company--and she so sweet andkind to him--he began to take heart of grace once more, and his volatilemind whispered to his soul the hope that, after all, things might well beas he had first intended, if he but played his cards adroitly, and didnot mar his chances by the precipitancy that had once gone near to losinghim. His purpose gathered strength from a message that came that eveningfrom Gian Maria, who was by then assured that Gonzaga's plan had failed.He sent word that, being unwilling to provoke the bloodshed threatened bythe reckless madman who called himself Monna Valentina's Provost, hewould delay the bombardment, hoping that in the meantime hunger wouldbeget in that rebellious garrison a more submissive mood.

Francesco read the message to Madonna's soldiers, and they received itjoyously. Their confidence in him increased a hundredfold by this proofof the accuracy of his foresight. They were a gay company at supper inconsequence, and gayest of all was Messer Gonzaga, most bravely dressedin a purple suit of taby silk to honour so portentous an occasion.

Francesco was the first to quit the table, craving Monna Valentina'sleave to be about some duty that took him to the walls. She let him go,and afterwards sat pensive, nor heeded now Romeo's light chatter, nor yetthe sonnet of Petrarca that presently he sang the company. Her thoughtswere all with him that had left the board. Scarcely a word had sheexchanged with Francesco since that delirious moment when they had lookedinto each other's eyes upon the ramparts, and seen the secret that eachwas keeping from the other. Why had he not come to her? she askedherself. And then she bethought her of how Gonzaga had all day long beenglued to her side, and she realised, too, that it was she had shunnedFrancesco's company, grown of a sudden strangely shy.

But greater than her shyness was now her desire to be near him, and tohear his voice; to have him look again upon her as he had looked thatmorning, when in terror for him she had sought to dissuade him fromopposing the craven impulse of her men-at-arms. A woman of mature age,or one riper in experience, would have waited for him to seek her out.But Valentina, in her sweet naturalness, thought never of subterfuge orof dalliant wiles. She rose quietly from the table ere Gonzaga's songwas done, and as quietly she slipped from the room.

It was a fine night, the air heavy with the vernal scent of fertilelands, and the deep cobalt of the heavens a glittering, star-flecked domein a lighter space of which floated the half-disk of the growing moon.Such a moon, she bethought her, as she had looked at with thoughts ofhim, the night after their brief meeting at Acquasparta. She had gainedthat north rampart on which he had announced that duty took him, andyonder she saw a man---the only tenant of the wall--leaning upon theembattled parapet, looking down at the lights of Gian Maria's camp. Hewas bareheaded, and by the gold coif that gleamed in his hair she knewhim. Softly she stole up behind him.

"Do we dream here, Messer Francesco?" she asked him, as she reached hisside, and there was laughter running through her words.

He started round at the sound of her voice, then he laughed too, softlyand gladly.

"It is a night for dreams, and I was dreaming indeed. But you havescattered them."

"You grieve me," she rallied him. "For assuredly they were pleasant,since, to come here and indulge them, you left--us."

"Aye--they were pleasant," he answered. "And yet, they were fraught witha certain sadness, but idle as is the stuff of dreams. They were yoursto dispel, for they were of you."

"Of me?" she questioned, her heart-beats quickening and bringing to hercheeks a flush that she thanked the night for concealing.

"Yes, Madonna--of you and our first meeting in the woods at Acquasparta.Do you recall it?"

"I do, I do," she murmured fondly.

"And do you recall how I then swore myself your knight and ever yourchampion? Little did we dream how the honour that I sighed for was to bemine."

She made him no answer, her mind harking back to that first meeting onwhich so often and so fondly she had pondered.

"I was thinking, too," he said presently, "of that man Gian Maria in theplain yonder, and of this shameful siege."

"You--you have no misgivings?" she faltered, for his words haddisappointed her a little.

"Misgivings?"

"For being here with me. For being implicated in what they call myrebellion?"

He laughed softly, his eyes upon the silver gleam of waters below.

"My misgivings are all for the time when this siege shall be ended; whenyou and I shall have gone each our separate way," he answered boldly. Heturned to face her now, and his voice rang a little tense. "But forbeing here to guide this fine resistance and lend you the little aid Ican---- No, no, I have no misgiving for that. It is the dearest frolicever my soldiering led me into. I came to Roccaleone with a message ofwarning; but underneath, deep down in my heart, I bore the hope that mineshould be more than a messenger's part; that mine it might be to remainby you and do such work as I am doing."

"Without you they would have forced me by now to surrender."

"Perhaps they would. But while I am here I do not think they will. Iburn for news of Babbiano. If I could but tell what is happening there Imight cheer you with the assurance that this siege can last but a fewdays longer. Gian Maria must get him home or submit to the loss of histhrone. And if he loses that your uncle would no longer support sostrenuously his suit with you. To you, Madonna, this must be a cheeringthought. To me--alas! Why should I hope for it?"

He was looking away now into the night, but his voice quivered with theemotion that was in him. She was silent, and emboldened perhaps by thatsilence of hers, encouraged by the memory of what he had seen thatmorning reflected in her eyes:

"Madonna," he cried, "I would it might be mine to cut a road for youthrough that besieging camp, and bear you away to some blessed placewhere there are neither courts nor princes. But since this may not be,Madonna mia, I would that this siege might last for ever."

And then--was it the night breeze faintly stirring through his hair thatmocked him with the whisper, "So indeed would I?" He turned to her, hishand, brown and nervous, fell upon hers, ivory-white, where it rested onthe stone.

"Valentina!" he cried, his voice no louder than a whisper, his eyesardently seeking her averted ones. And then, as suddenly as it had leaptup, was the fire in his glance extinguished. He withdrew his hand fromhers, he sighed, and shifted his gaze to the camp once more. "Forgive,forget, Madonna," he murmured bitterly, "that which in my madness I havepresumed."

Silent she stood for a long moment; then she edged nearer to him, and hervoice murmured back: "What if I account it no presumption?"

With a gasp he swung round to face her, and they stood very close, glanceholding glance, and hers the less timid of the two. They thus remainedfor a little space. Then shaking his head and speaking with an infinitesadness:

"It were better that you did, Madonna," he made answer.

"Better? But why?"

"Because I am no duke, Madonna."

"And what of that?" she cried, to add with scorn: "Out yonder sits aduke. Oh, sir, how shall I account presumptuous in you the very wordsthat I would hear? What does your rank signify to me? I know you forthe truest knight, the noblest gentleman, and the most valiant friendthat ever came to the aid of distressed maiden. Do you forget the veryprinciples that have led me to make this resistance? That I am a woman,and ask of life no more than is a woman's due--and no less."

There she stopped; again the blood suffused her cheeks as she bethoughther of how fast she talked, and of how bold her words might sound. Sheturned slightly from him, and leant now upon the parapet, gazing out intothe night. And as she stood thus, a very ardent voice it was thatwhispered in her ear:

"Valentina, by my soul, I love you!" And there that whisper, whichfilled her with an ecstasy that was almost painful in its poignancy,ended sharply as if throttled. Again his hand sought hers, which wasyielded to him as she would have yielded her whole life at his sweetbidding, and now his voice came less passionately.

"Why delude ourselves with cruel hopes, my Valentina?" he was saying."There is the future. There is the time when this siege shall be donewith, and when, Gian Maria having got him home, you will be free todepart. Whither will you go?"

She looked at him as if she did not understand the question, and her eyeswere troubled, although in such light as there was he could scarce seethis.

"I will go whither you bid me. Where else have I to go?" she added, witha note of bitterness.

He started. Her answer was so far from what he had expected.

"But your uncle----?"

"What duty do I owe to him? Oh, I have thought of it, and until--untilthis morning, it seemed that a convent must be my ultimate refuge. Ihave spent most of my young life at Santa Sofia, and the little that Ihave seen of the world at my uncle's court scarce invites me to see moreof it. The Mother Abbess loved me a little. She would take me back,unless----"

She broke off and looked at him, and before that look of absolute andsweet surrender his senses swam. That she was niece to the Duke ofUrbino he remembered no more than that he was Count of Aquila, well-born,but of none too rich estate, and certainly no more a match for her inGuidobaldo's eyes than if he had been the simple knight-errant that heseemed.

He moved closer to her, his hands--as if obeying a bidding greater thanhis will, the bidding of that glance of hers, perhaps--took her by theshoulders, whilst his whole soul looked at her from his eyes. Then, witha stifled cry, he caught her to him. For a moment she lay, palpitant,within his arms, her tall, bronze head on a level with his chin, herheart beating against his heart. Stooping suddenly, he kissed her on thelips. She suffered it with an unresistance that invited. But when itwas done, she gently put him from her; and he, obedient to her slightestwish, curbed the wild ardour of his mood, and set her free.

"Anima mia!" he cried rapturously. "You are mine now, betide what may.Not Gian Maria nor all the dukes in Christendom shall take you from me."

She set her hand upon his lips to silence him, and he kissed the palm, sothat laughing she drew back again. And now from laughter she passed to agreat solemnity, and with arm outstretched towards the ducal camp: "Winme a way through those lines," said she, "and bear me away from Urbino--far away where Guidobaldo's power and the vengeance of Gian Maria may notfollow us--and you shall have won me for your own. But until then, letthere be a truce to--to this, between us. Here is a man's work to bedone, and if I am weak as to-night, I may weaken you, and then we shouldboth be undone. It is upon your strength I count, Franceschino mio, mytrue knight."

He would have answered her. He had much to tell her--who and what hewas. But she pointed to the head of the steps, where a man's figureloomed.

He bowed low before her, obedient ever, like the true knight he was, andtook his leave of her, his soul on fire.

Valentina watched his retreating figure until it had vanished round theangle of the wall. Then with a profound sigh, that was as a prayer ofthanksgiving for this great good that had come into her life, she leanedupon the parapet and looked out into the darkness, her cheeks flushed,her heart still beating high. She laughed softly to herself out of thepure happiness of her mood. The camp of Gian Maria became a subject forher scorn. What should his might avail whilst she had such a champion todefend her now and hereafter?

There was an irony in that siege on which her fancy fastened. By comingthus in arms against her Gian Maria sought to win her for his wife; yetall that he had accomplished was to place her in the arms of the one manwhom she had learnt to love by virtue of this very siege. The mellowwarmth of the night, the ambient perfume of the fields were well-sortedto her mood, and the faint breeze that breathed caressingly upon hercheek seemed to re-echo the melodies her heart was giving forth. In thathour those old grey walls of Roccaleone seemed to enclose for her a veryparadise, and the snatch of an old love song stole softly from her partedlips. But like a paradise--alas!--it had its snake that crept up unheardbehind her, and was presently hissing in her ear. And its voice was thevoice of Romeo Gonzaga.

"It comforts me, Madonna, that there is one, at least, in Roccaleone hasthe heart to sing."

Startled out of her happy pensiveness by that smooth and now unutterablysinister voice, she turned to face its owner.

She saw the white gleam of his face and something of the anger thatsmouldered in his eye, and despite herself a thrill of alarm ran throughher like a shudder. She looked beyond him to a spot where lately she hadseen the sentry. There was no one there nor anywhere upon that wall.They were alone, and Messer Gonzaga looked singularly evil.

For a moment there was a tense silence, broken only by the tumblingwaters of the torrent-moat and the hoarse challenge of a sentry's "Chi valà?" in Gian Maria's camp. Then she turned nervously, wondering how muchhe might have heard of what had passed between herself and Francesco, howmuch have seen.

"--To wanton it here in the moonlight with that damned swashbuckler, thatbrigand, that kennel-bred beast of a sbirro!"

"Gonzaga! You would dare!"

"Dare?" he mocked her, beside himself with passion. "Is it you who speakof daring--you, the niece of Guidobaldo da Montefeltro, a lady of thenoble and illustrious house of Rovere, who cast yourself into the arms ofa low-born vassal such as that, a masnadiero, a bandit, a bravo? And canyou yet speak of daring, and take that tone with me, when shame shouldstrike you either dead or dumb?"

"Gonzaga," she answered him, her face as white as his own, but her voicesteady and hard with anger, "leave me now--upon the instant, or I willhave you flogged--flogged to the bone."

A moment he stared at her like a man dazed. Then he tossed his arms toHeaven, and letting them fall heavily to his sides, he shrugged hisshoulders and laughed evilly. But of going he made no shift.

"Call your men," he answered her, in a choking voice. "Do your will onme. Flog me to the bone or to the death--let that be the reward of allthat I have done, all that I have risked, all that I have sacrificed toserve you. It were of a piece with your other actions."

Her eyes sought his in the gloom, her bosom heaving wildly in herendeavours to master herself before she spoke.

"Messer Gonzaga," said she at last, "I'll not deny that you served mefaithfully in the matter of my escape from Urbino----"

"Why speak of it?" he sneered. "It was a service of which you but availyourself until another offered on whom you might bestow your favour andthe supreme command of your fortress. Why speak of it?"

"To show you that the service you allude to is now paid," she ripostedsternly. "By reproaching me you have taken payment, and by insulting meyou have stamped out my gratitude."

"A most convenient logic yours," he mocked. "I am cast aside like anoutworn garment, and the garment is accounted paid for because throughmuch hard usage it has come to look a little threadbare."

And now it entered her mind that perhaps there was some justice in whathe said. Perhaps she had used him a little hardly.

"Do you think, Gonzaga," she said, and her tone was now a shade moregentle, "that because you have served me you may affront me, and thatknight who has served me, also, and----"

"In what can such service as his compare with mine? What has he donethat I have not done more?"

"Why, when the men rebelled here----"

"Bah! Cite me not that. Body of God! it is his trade to lead suchswine. He is one of themselves. But for the rest, what has such a manas this to lose by his share in your rebellion, compared with such a lossas mine must be?"

"Why, if things go ill, I take it he may lose his life," she answered, ina low voice. "Can you lose more?"

He made a gesture of impatience.

"If things go ill--yes. It may cost him dearly. But if they go well,and this siege is raised, he has nothing more to fear. Mine is a parlouscase. However ends this siege, for me there will be no escape from thevengeance of Gian Maria and Guidobaldo. They know my share in it. Theyknow that your action was helped by me, and that without me you couldnever have equipped yourself for such resistance. Whatever may betideyou and this Ser Franceseo, for me there will be no escape."

She drew a deep breath, then set him the obvious question:

"Did you not consider it--did you not weigh these chances--before youembarked upon this business, before you, yourself, urged me to thisstep?"

"Aye, did I," he answered sullenly.

"Then, why these complaints now?"

He was singularly, madly frank with her in his reply. He told her thathe had done it because he loved her, because she had given him signs thathis love was not in vain.

"I gave you signs?" she interrupted him. "Mother in Heaven! Recitethese signs that I may know them."

"Were you not ever kind to me?" he demanded. "Did you not ever manifesta liking for my company? Were you not ever pleased that I should sing toyou the songs that in your honour I had made? Was it not to me youturned in the hour of your need?"

"See now how poor a thing you are, Gonzaga?" she answered witheringly."A woman may not smile on you, may not give you a kind word, may notsuffer you to sing to her, but you must conclude she is enamoured of you.And if I turned to you in my hour of need, as you remind me, needs thatbe a sign of my infatuation? Does every cavalier so think when ahelpless woman turns to him in her distress? But even so," shecontinued, "how should all that diminish the peril you now talk of? Evenwere your suit with me to prosper, would that make you any the less RomeoGonzaga, the butt of the anger of my uncle and Gian Maria? Rather do Ithink that it should make you more."

But he disillusioned her. He did not scruple, in his angry mood, to laybefore her his reasonings that as her husband he would be screened.

She laughed aloud at that.

"And so it is by such sophistries as these that your presumption came tolife?"That stung him. Quivering with the passion that obsessed him, he steppedclose up to her.

"Tell me, Madonna--why shall we account presumption in Romeo Gonzaga asuit that in a nameless adventurer we encourage?" he asked, his voicethick and tremulous.

"Have a care," she bade him.

"A care of what?" he flashed back. "Answer me, Monna Valentina. Am I sobase a man that by the very thought of love for you I must presume,whilst you can give yourself into the arms of this swashbuckling bravo,and take his kisses? Your reasoning sorts ill with your deeds."

"Craven!" she answered him. "Dog that you are!" And before the blaze ofpassion in her eyes he recoiled, his courage faltering. She cropped heranger in mid-career, and in a dangerously calm voice she bade him see toit that by morning he was no longer in Roccaleone. "Profit by thenight," she counselled him," and escape the vigilance of Gian Maria asbest you can. Here you shall not stay."

At that a great fear took possession of him, putting to flight the lastremnant of his anger. Nor fear alone was it, to do him full justice. Itwas also the realisation that if he would take payment from her for thistreatment of him, if he would slake his vengeance, he must stay. Oneplan had failed him. But his mind was fertile, and he might deviseanother that might succeed and place Gian Maria in Roccaleone. Thusshould he be amply venged. She was turning away, having pronounced hisbanishment, but he sprang after her, and upon his knees he now besoughther piteously to hear him yet awhile.

And she, regretting her already of her harshness, and thinking thatperhaps in his jealousy he had been scarce responsible for what he hadsaid, stood still to hear him.

"Not that, not that, Madonna," he wailed, his tone suggesting theimminence of tears. "Do not send me away. If die I must, let me diehere at Roccaleone, helping the defence to my last breath. But do notcast me out to fall into the hands of Gian Maria. He will hang me for myshare in this business. Do not requite me thus, Madonna. You owe me alittle, surely, and if I was mad when I talked to you just now, it waslove of you that drove me--love of you and suspicion of that man of whomnone of us know anything. Madonna, be pitiful a little. Suffer me toremain."

She looked down at him, her mind swayed between pity and contempt. Thenpity won the day in the wayward but ever gentle heart of Valentina. Shebade him rise.

"And go, Gonzaga. Get you to bed, and sleep you into a saner frame ofmind. We will forget all this that you have said, so that you neverspeak of it again--nor of this love you say you bear me."